


Training Pays Off

by mssrj_335



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Escalating Force Shenanigans, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi Finn (Star Wars), M/M, POV Finn (Star Wars), Some Humor, Using the force but in kind of a sexy way, force projection, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Just when imaginary Finn is ready to peel Poe’s suit down to his knees, a frisson of energy shimmers in the air between them and Poe chokes. Poe’s eyes are a little wide, his face a little red. His eyes shoot over to Finn, who’s just as surprised.—Finn's been doing some Jedi training with Rey and it definitely starts manifesting in a weird way.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113





	Training Pays Off

**Author's Note:**

> omfg this was so much fun, and no angst or h/c from me SURPRISE
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Poe, have you seen my sock?”

It’s gotta be in here somewhere, it’s the last kriffing clean one he has.

“Mo, ah ha-ent -een ih.”

Finn rolls his eyes and tries not to smile. Poe’s sticking his head out of the ‘fresher, bare-chested, curls damp and dripping and toothbrush hanging slightly out of his mouth. Looking downright distracting is what he’s doing.

Finn groans just a bit.

He’s _late_. He _hates_ being late and he can’t afford to get distracted. All because of some gods-damned sock. He drops to his hands and knees, crawling along the edge of their bed to see if past tired him had stuffed it under there. There’s a smell, definitely a smell, probably coming from Poe’s most tattered flight suit that decided to crawl under the bunk and die instead of wait around for repairs. There’s some old star charts, a couple boxes of Poe’s knickknacks still yet to be unpacked. No sock.

Finn rolls his eyes harder and settles back on his shins, hands on his thighs. _Where is that kriffing sock_? The harder he thinks about it, the more frustrated he gets. Just when he’s ready to go train with Rey barefoot, he hears Poe from the fresher. There’s a _very_ undignified squeak, a thud and a curse and—oh, he’s _never_ gonna let Poe forget this.

Or at least that’s what he’s going to do later. Right now, he’s too stupefied to form any thoughts other than—

“What—how—Poe, do you _see this_?”

Poe comes out of the fresher not even bitching about his ignoble little tumble and that’s how Finn figures he must not be dreaming.

There’s the sock. Hanging in the air between them, waiting to be plucked like some kind of mystic sock-shaped fruit. And there’s Poe’s left foot, bare where his right is still clothed.

“That’s…that’s your sock,” Poe stutters, pointing at it as if it’s not just hanging there.

Finn blinks once, twice, then it hits him. Whatever focus he had is gone and the little black garment drops out of the air.

“You ass, that’s my sock.”

“I didn’t know it was _your_ sock, all the things look exactly the same!” Poe shakes his head. “I can’t even believe that’s what you’re focusing on here. How in the hell did that get off my foot is what you should be askin’!”

Finn rubs the back of his head, a little sheepish, a little chagrinned. “Yeah, ok fair,” he says, rising to his feet. “The real question though is ‘are you alright’?”

Finn brings his hands up to Poe’s elbows, thumbs stroke gently the skin he finds there. He’s trying to be sincere, he really is, but it’s made a little difficult when the full realization gets to him.

For months since the Battle of Exegol, he’s been training with Rey. In between all the meetings and debriefings and endless bureaucratic, fixing-the-galaxy bullshit he’s trying to get under his belt, he didn’t think much of a little Jedi training. It was more a way to unwind, really. A little meditation, a little sparring. And this—well, apparently he’s been making some progress. But Poe still looks so damn bewildered that he starts to laugh and can’t get the news out.

“Oh thanks buddy, you seem real concerned here,” Poe pouts.“Some weird mystic force is making our socks float and you decide me falling is the funny thing.”

Poe crosses his arms and tries to march back into the ‘fresher, which only makes him laugh harder.

“No, no wait, c’mon,” he chuckles, chasing after him.

He wraps his arms around Poe’s stomach, pressing an apologetic kiss to Poe’s back where he imagines the pilot smacked it in his fall. Poe huffs at him at the first kiss but the sound distorts into something distinctly breathy at the second and third. Finn tightens his grip and pulls Poe close, enjoying the feel of so much bare skin. Stars, it feels good to be able to touch him, and touch him so freely, that Finn forgets he has somewhere to be.

“You’re a thief, Poe Dameron,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind his ear. “Stealing my clothes.”

Poe’s breath hitches a little when Finn slides his hand over the stretch of tan skin between Poe’s bellybutton and his trousers. “You started it.”

“True…”

And he definitely intends to finish it. The _it_ in this case being Poe.

When he finds Rey about an hour later, he gets a stinkeye of galactic proportions and the workout of his life. But it was worth it.

—

The next time something like the sock incident happens is during a briefing a week or so later. Well, it’s not exactly the same. Somehow it’s better and worse than the sock thing. Poe is standing in the center of the room at the holoprojector, surrounded by their some of their own troops. Finn’s supposed to be helping, and he is. Chiming in with pertinent information on who to contact when they get there, rendezvous points, all the usual. It should be a fairly easy mission, just a supply run, and the meeting is about half over. So he can’t really be blamed when his eyes start to wander, right?

Poe’s saying something about flight patterns but all Finn can focus on is his mouth. Poe’s bottom lip is a little shiny in the green holo light. He remembers biting it the night before, the pretty moan Poe ground out when Finn ground him into the bed. The events start replaying in his head; he crosses his arms and leans back, letting ideas meander where they will. His eyes absently trace the track of Poe’s neck to wear it disappears beneath his flight suit. In his head, he’s already stripping Poe out of the damn thing, urging him back into a wall with damp, hot kisses.

“Blue squadron, you’re gonna be going as—”

Just when imaginary Finn is ready to peel Poe’s suit down to his knees, a frisson of energy shimmers in the air between them and Poe chokes. Poe’s eyes are a little wide, his face a little red. His eyes shoot over to Finn, who’s just as surprised.

“Uh, you’re gonna be going as, as backup.” Poe flounders but only for a second then he’s off again. “Maintain your position, some in orbit, some on the ground. Just in case there’s trouble.”

Finn relaxes and lets Poe lead the meeting on. After a time, his mind begins to wander and imaginary Finn is back at it and on his knees, Poe mostly naked up against the wall. Stars, he’s not sure what he likes more: having his way or Poe having his. He imagines Poe’s hand fisting in his hair when he pushes his ass back into the wall, the little gasps Poe might make when Finn kisses the hot skin at his hip. Real-Poe’s hand clenches, Finn takes a deep breath through his nose, imagining Poe biting that damn bottom lip and suffocating a moan deep in his throat when fictional-Finn finally gets his mouth on pretend-Poe’s dick. Real-Poe crosses his arms and trails off, the red blush spreading from his cheeks to his neck.

Finn’s distracted by the way Poe’s arms flex under his flight suit, losing the daydream enough to notice the air is glimmering again. Poe uncrosses his arms, crosses them again, looks at the ceiling then back at his expectant troops. Whatever he was saying is totally gone and he looks more and more like imaginary Poe.

_Oh, that’s interesting_.

Maybe…

“You’ll have uh…um, three days to—” Poe manages, “to get out there and get back. Otherwise, our next assignment will be behind schedule.”

Finn scrambles inwardly, eager to test a plan. He calls the daydream back, thinks about Poe totally naked and horizontal this time, slick and hot and waiting. Fiction-Finn grins the same grins real-Finn’s sporting and crawls up to straddle Poe’s hips. Real-Poe has a sheen of sweat at his hairline and real-Finn shifts behind him. Poe turns, their eyes meet, and Finn imagines sinking down on Poe’s cock.

The look on Poe’s face is worth it. He’s gaping, mouth working uselessly. The troops are staring, shifting, waiting to see if there’s going to be more. Finn knows for a fact there won’t be anything intelligible coming out of Poe’s mouth for at least the next half-hour, if all goes according to his on-the-fly plan.

“You have your assignments,” he says, voice raised but eyes still on Poe’s. “Dismissed.”

The troops file out, looking a little confused. It’s not a good save by any measure but when Poe grabs his hand Finn can’t bring himself to care. They make it as far as the nearest supply closet before real-Finn is getting to all that fiction-Finn set up.

He managed to distract Poe enough that he forgets to ask about all that, which plants the seed of a new plan in Finn’s head.

—

It’s a week and several grueling training sessions later. So it’s been a week since the meeting, two weeks since the sock, and Finn’s been experimenting. Just little things, really. So far, he’s managed to pull his toothbrush from the bathroom, push his boots off without his feet moving. He’s also managed to use one or two suggestive thoughts to get Poe’s attention for a little fun but he hasn’t pushed it as far as the first time. He’s trying to be careful. There’s a question he needs answered first.

“So you think you can move things around now?”

Finn groans as he eases himself to a seat in the mess hall. Rey smirks at him, holding her tray aloft as she joins him with no such groan. Stars, that woman could run up a mountain and still have energy left.

“Among other things,” he says evasively, “but I’m not 100% sure how I did it.” He thinks back to the morning meeting and the floating sock. “I was just thinking about the socks hard, like _really_ hard, and I pulled it off Poe’s foot, I think.”

She’s smiling but the look Rey levels is not impressed so he carries on before she can cut in. The question he’s had is still stirring his mind too much; he blurts out, “Can I hurt people?”

Rey’s smile slips and a cloud passes over her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finn licks his lips anxiously and leans forward. “I mean…could I accidentally, I don’t know, Force push someone off a ladder or plant an idea in someone’s head that they don’t want?”

It’s the last one that scares him the most. What’s between him and Poe is growing, but it’s new. Well, new-ish. The last thing he wants it to use this Force thing to make Poe uncomfortable or suggest something he doesn’t want. He hasn’t forgotten what Poe went through with Ren on the _Finalizer_ even though it’s been several years since the event. Rey’s quiet a moment, her eyes calculating.

“You won’t,” she says, resolute. “I don’t think you’re capable of it.”

Finn opens his mouth to argue but she holds up a hand. “You’d have to _want_ to hurt someone and that’s not you.” She slides that hand across the space between them and lays it comforting on his forearm. “I know you, so no, I don’t think you’ll hurt anyone.”

There’s a moment of relief as Rey’s smile returns. She pats his arm once, the matter closed, and the smile transforms into a smirk.

“So months,” she drawls, “of me telling you to focus mean nothing and it takes you getting frustrated about a _sock_ to actually—”

“Hey now, that’s harsh—”

Rey smirks over his shoulder and barrels over him. “To ACTUALLY produce a Force pull? And that Force pull ended with Poe losing _clothes_?”

Finn decides not to answer that and shoves a spoonful of something savory in his mouth. Only to choke when he hears,

“What about Poe losing clothes?”

Rey’s smirk spreads to a grin when Poe joins them at the table, looking a little confused and somehow still a little debauched from the night before. Finn’s mouth dries out a bit when he spies a dark hickey popping up from under Poe’s collar. He could drown himself in his drink when Rey’s eyes light on it and she snorts.

“Finn was just telling me about your sock incident a while back. Took a little tumble did you?”

A blush creeps its way across Poe’s cheeks, Finn’s hands tighten on his cup. “In my defense, the thing magically stripped off my foot.”

“And Finn didn’t tell you?”

Finn’s eyes get wide and he shakes his head but Rey’s going on.

“Apparently he can do Force tricks if it means getting your clothes off.”

“That’s not what it means at all!”

Rey shakes her head when Poe’s eyes cut his way. “Shameful,” she tisks, tucking into her lunch and gleefully watching the realization bloom on Poe’s face.

“So the floating sock was you?”

Finn grins, embarrassed. “In my defense,” he parrots, “I didn’t exactly know it was me at the time.”

“And the meeting…thing?”

_That_ catches Rey’s attention and she pounces on it. “What thing?”

Finn scrambles with his tray, trying and failing to extricate himself from the table. “No thing. What thing? I don’t know about any _thing_.”

This time, Poe and Rey meet eyes, Rey, confused.

“What’d he do?”

“A neat little daydream trick.” Poe waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Rey gasps, eyes wide and delighted, and snaps back to Finn. “ _No…”_

_“_ Barely finished the meeting, lemme tell you.”

Poe grins and pops a piece of fruit in his mouth, looking far too smug. Rey’s looking faux-scandalized, Poe’s eyes slide back to Finn, and he’s caught between the two of them, shifting awkwardly with his tray in his hands.

“Um…oops?” he tries.

Poe and Rey glance at each other and bust out laughing.

“This wasn’t the reason I wanted you to train with me,” Rey wheezes, “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

Finn feels his cheeks heat. “Hey, c’mon—”

“You think _you’re_ surprised…” Poe snickers.

Finn groans and stalks to a different table to finish his lunch. Their laughter follows him and he drops his tray next to Chewie and Jannah. At least they won’t poke fun at him.

When Rey and Poe end up following, he finds out just how wrong he is. But if this is the reaction and fear isn’t, he can’t say he’s really mad about it.

—

The next time something happens, he’s laying in bed, barely conscious, happy to snuggle closer and press his half-mast erection to the curve of Poe’s ass. He’s coming out of a dream, something about Poe that’s hot and dirty and fading. With a little groan, he rolls over and flops an arm over Poe’s waist,

Only to find him awake and panting just a bit.

“Hey,” he asks blearily, “you ok?”

“Yeah…” Poe’s voice is wobbly, breathless.

A little tremor of worry threatens to expand until he realizes where Poe’s hand is. In fact, he’s actually really happy to find where Poe’s hand is, shoved down his underwear like he just can’t help himself.

A smile spreads over Finn’s face. Guess now is as good a time as any to try out that plan he made. He presses in closer and murmurs, “Um, good morning?”

Poe gasps when he trails his fingers down Poe’s arm to cover his hand. “Care to finish what you started in that dream, buddy?”

Finn snuggles in, rubbing his nose at the nape of Poe’s neck, teasing. “I don’t remember what it was.”

Poe scoffs and shoves his hips back, grinding his ass into Finn’s lap, making a hiss escape his teeth.

“That give you a clue?”

An image of Poe, spread and naked and moaning, flashes in his head and Poe in the real world moans just like he imagined.

“Ok _that_ ,” he groans. “How do you _do_ that?”

“I just think about it,” he mutters, stifling another hiss. “You just make it so easy, you’re already in my head all the time.”

Poe squirms in his grasp and turns over, heated hands pushing at his shoulders and feverish lips smearing against his neck. There’s no doubt: he’s not getting out of it now, even if dream-Finn started it.

And thank the stars for that.

“You or me?”

Poe bites into his throat and slides between Finn’s knees like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. “You first,” he moans, muffled from under Finn’s jaw.

Finn’s breath stutters when Poe trails kisses down his chest. Then Poe pauses, holding him hostage for a long moment, pulling his pants down over his hips and ghosting hot breath over his cock. Another image slips through his mind, a few steps ahead in the game. Poe’s spread over his thighs, rolling his hips and digging his blunt nails into Finn’s chest. Finn groans, sits up and grabs for Poe’s underwear only to find he’s frozen, eyes scrunched closed and muscles taut.

“Poe?”

Poe bites his lip, lets Finn gentle him back to the bed. “Can you…can you do that again?”

For a second, Finn doesn’t follow, too distracted by Poe pawing at his shoulders, his chest. Then, he gets the drift. It’s hard to imagine something with Poe right there, but he smiles, kisses Poe’s neck gently, and closes his eyes. This isn’t what Poe asked for but he’s pretty positive he’ll like it anyway.

Finn braces his hands on either side of Poe’s chest. As he leans in, sliding his lips against Poe’s, he imagines Poe’s underwear sliding down his legs. When Poe gasps into his mouth and arches up, he figures it’s working. He imagines Poe’s pants on the floor and hears a satisfying flop of fabric. Oh, that was _way_ more satisfying than the sock thing.

Fiction-Finn is back and at it again, this time lubing his fingers up and pressing one into Poe. Poe groans, head falling back against the pillow and real-Finn thinks particularly hard about the lube that’s actually still sitting in their bedside table while fiction-Finn fits another finger in Poe’s ass. Poe is gasping and grasping at him like his fingers are already there and suddenly the lube is there hanging between them, waiting to be picked like some kind of mystic lube-shaped fruit. The hilarity of the situation escapes him though, because Poe’s teeth are back in his neck, pulling him down. With one hand, he grabs the lube from the air and pops the cap. When he reaches for Poe, he finds that— _oh stars—_ that maybe fiction-Finn is a little more…present than he thought. Poe’s already ready for him, eyes glazed, hips moving in tiny little jerks.

“You good?” Finn breathes, willing Fiction-Finn to slow his roll and wait too.

Poe licks his lips, eyes hooded and dark in the dim morning light. “As long as you don’t stop there—”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Finn buries his face in Poe’s neck, takes a steadying breath, presses into Poe’s tight heat with a moan. When Fiction-Finn does the same, he shivers at the feeling, at Poe’s gasp and swallows his groan. Poe’s eyes pop wide, hands scrabbling at the headboard.

“Finn, oh, ha _what—_ ”

“You said don’t stop.”

It takes all his focus but he imagines smearing kisses across Poe’s chest, hefts Poe’s knee over his elbow. Fiction-Finn swallows down Poe’s cock as real-Finn starts thrusting like he means it. Poe writhes in the sheets, moans at what Finn can only imagine is an onslaught of sensation. He can’t help it, he feels all the breath leave Poe in a soft wheeze and he has to brace his hands, to get a better angle, to hear it again.

In his head, he’s sucking Poe off like they’re back in the supply closet. Maybe they are, the lines of what’s real and what’s in his head are starting to blur in the haze of feeling and heat and _Poe_. He can faintly feel Poe’s cock on the back of his tongue even though he’s buried in him and everything is spiraling dangerously close to too much. Poe finally gets some of his senses back and shoves his tongue in Finn’s mouth and his ass back against him. The air is shimmering around them again and between the feel of Poe in him and around him, it’s all he can do to choke out, “ _Poe_ ” before he falls headfirst into mindless sensation. Poe is groaning, clenching around him, falling on his own before they land together, boneless and sweaty and spent in their bed.

“Finn—I can’t—what the _hell_?” is all Poe can manage to say.

Finn pants, grins, rolls off him with a huff. “I mean, you said don’t stop.”

Poe reaches over and smacks him, which makes him giggle. “Kriffing Jedi,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it.

Finn wraps an arm around Poe’s chest and snuggles in even though they could both use a shower. Good to know all that training was worth it.


End file.
